Psyched Out
by MoonlightUmbreon
Summary: It's been a very long time since the accident. Sixteen years, to be exact. Ever since I'd graduated from Harvard with my psychiatry degree, I'd kept an eye on Danny. There was a mystery about him, though, and now, I really wish I'd never gone sleuthing.
1. A Wave of Emotion

**Author's Note  
**Question: Why?  
Answer: Because I'm feeling exceptionally evil today, and I've always wanted to write something about Jazz. A sudden wave of inspiration hit me last Friday before my exams, and now that they're over and it still hasn't fizzled out, you're about to see the result. I reckon I'm going to be a fair bit more productive in the weeks to come... ;)

**Blanket Disclaimer  
**I do _not_, by _any _stretch of the truth, own Danny Phantom. DP is the intellectual property of Butch Hartman, Nickelodeon and Viacom; all I did was put a story together.

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Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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It was just another one of those times. Occasionally, they'd strike me unexpectedly. It's those _little, tiny _things that you notice over the years. They can sway you, make you apprehensive – but I still didn't think much of this. Essentially, it was exactly the same as what I'd already been feeling over the years.

But... this time, was there just this slight degree of _anger_ to go with it? That's why this particular incident is more than noteworthy; it never happened with feelings of anger. _Usually, _it's just a feeling of a particular emotion that washes over you; not originating from inside but instead from the person next to you. In my case, that's Danny.

Ages have gone by since the original accident. _Years_. But it benefited him in ways that I don't even think _he _understands. It's not what he can do; it's mentally and morally what he's gained. Danny's less foolhardy now than ever, and has the level of maturity expected of someone at least twice his age. It's hard to imagine that sixteen years ago, when he was fourteen, he was just a klutzy kid who did averagely at school and liked to hang out with his friends. Life was so much different back then.

When I was packing to go to Harvard, it struck him, though. Harvard's in Massachusetts, which isn't exactly what you'd call close to Illinois. It was the first time I'd felt a wave from him, though, and it was such an incredible feeling of _loss_. He didn't want to see me go, I could tell, and though he tried to hide it, I think his ghost half was betraying him.

On my way to Massachusetts via rail, I had a lot of time to think. Somehow, I'd managed to get an entire cabin to myself, so it wasn't as if there were any annoying distractions. For most of the time, I watched the landscape and towns zip past, jumping from one side of the window to the other. But I never actually noticed much of it, too caught up in my own thoughts. I wasn't even sure that Danny _knew _what he'd done, as he'd kept his act up so well. But there was still a questionable thought; had mum or dad felt it, too? Or was it just me? They still didn't know about Danny's ghost half, despite having made a truce with Phantom; so I couldn't just walk up and ask them.

But, I had to reason, if his ghost half was betraying him, then wouldn't that mean that Phantom had a slight mind of his own? But he was always Danny...

By the time I'd gotten to Cambridge, I'd found that I'd thought everything about the subject that there was to think about. More evidence was required, and possibly a chat, but that wouldn't be possible with so many states between us.

Over the six years I spent studying psychiatry, I forgot about it. And while I came home for every extended break period, nothing funny ever really arose during that time. I'd dismissed it as a quirk and stopped it from making me worry. God knows there were enough quirks in my life anyway; my parents kept a _portal_ to another _dimension_ in the _basement_. Not much tops that for quirky. Except maybe the fact that my brother was a half human half ghost hybrid. But that was more freaky than quirky, in the end.

However, the real worries had come after I'd graduated. I was a qualified psychiatrist, and while I'd started to work at a clinic with patients, I always kept an eye on my little brother. On a regular basis, ghosts still fled from the portal and proceeded in an attempt to tear up Amity Park. Something had to be done, and he was the "lucky" person to get landed with the job. Not that mum and dad weren't good at making lots of anti-ghost devices, but often they'd take odd things out into combat that obviously weren't going to work; like the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, which was nothing more than a baseball bat with the word Fenton on it. I kept telling them they should use a thermos, but they insisted that they should be finding new and innovative ways to take the ghosts out.

Danny was now thirty. He knew what he was doing, but he didn't have a job. Our parents didn't mind keeping him around the house, so long as he did at least some of the work that needed to be done. (like stacking the dishwasher, mopping the floor, and, terrifyingly, cleaning the basement sink) Danny came down to the house I was paying off a mortgage on in Southern Amity Park every weekend, and we'd spend about two hours talking to each other. It was a release I think he needed, every now and then.

But these 'waves of emotion', as I called them – I didn't want them to go unchecked. So that day, I asked him if he actually knew what was happening. He shook his head and tilted a brow in confusion. I was _so sure _that he had absolutely no idea that it was going on at all, but the wave that hit me directly after his actions was, rather than extremely confused, much more... angry, than anything else. But he said that he wasn't angry at all when I asked. He _sounded _completely truthful. But when he went home, I wasn't entirely convinced.

By setting out to find the source of a seemingly mild and generally docile fact of life for Danny, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself – and my little brother – into.


	2. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Author's Note  
**Just to clear up some things asked in the reviews, yes, there is a perfectly logical reason for Danny to still be living at home. I just haven't gotten around to writing that part, yet. ;)

Thanks a bunch to the reviewers! You guys are awesome! I'm sorry I didn't get around to replying; I didn't get around to it. However... this is a chapter-a-day phenomenon! This hasn't happened in almost eight months. -laughs- Enjoy! I'll get around to replying to your reviews this time, I promise. I appreciate them so much.

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**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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**Ghost Log Entry No. 1,197  
**(16/06/2025)  
**Ghost:** Identity Unknown  
**Time Spent Fighting: **2 hours, 27 minutes.  
**Danger: **Not too dangerous, though tricky.  
**Ghost's Abilities/Weapons: **Standard ectoblasts, etc... nothing too spectacular.**  
Particular Weaknesses: **None so far.  
**Current Status/Location: **Earth, on the run.  
**Notes: **Likes sneak attacks, by becoming invisible and coming up from behind. Will also use this technique to make an escape if the going gets rough.

This would have been Danny's latest run-in; I knew him, and one thing he did these days was keep a log on every ghost fight he was involved in. However, he didn't know I was using my laptop from the other side of Amity Park to hack into his computer, which was attached (though heavily encrypted) to the FentonWorks local drive. I knew I shouldn't be doing it, and he'd probably be angry at me for it if he found out, but in the end, it was only for his benefit.

I scrolled through the list of ghost fights, and I suppose it was then that I got a scope of _just how many _he was involved in. It actually shocked me a bit – he was taking on at _least_ three ghosts a day; that's more than my parents fought in a _week_. It wasn't always just one ghost at a time, either; there were plenty of entries where he'd been taking on several ghosts at once. How he did it, I'll never know.

But the one thing I really wanted to find out wasn't there at all. Nothing particularly strange except for the Box Ghost almost breaking the portal not on purpose but _by accident_.

I sighed, almost in frustration. There was a desire to find out what this was all about for reasons other than just Danny's sake; it was also to quench my own curiosity. Looks like that wasn't about to happen.

I stood up from the desk, stretching my legs and heading off to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. It was getting late, but I wasn't ready to go to bed yet. First, I wanted to figure out a way to perform a test on Danny without him noticing. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly what they taught you in a psychiatry degree.

However, for the first time in years, perhaps my parents' gadgets would finally come in handy. Fifteen, almost sixteen years of making anti-ghost and ghost-researching devices had to give some fruit, not to mention all the information they must've collected and placed on the local database...

So I decided. I was going to pay a visit to my parents the next day, since the next day was Sunday and I wouldn't have to work then. Danny was barely ever around the house by day, anyway, so I'd be in the clear. Mum and Dad would show me everything, just being glad that I was taking a slight interest in the family business again.

I fell asleep that night with much more solace than I'd've otherwise had.

* * *

"Sweetheart! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"

Mum hugged me tightly almost as soon as she'd opened the door; it was a bit overwhelming, but considering I hadn't visited for over a month, it was, in all honesty, valid.

"Me too, mum. Where're Dad and Danny?"

"Danny went with Sam and Tucker to a movie, or something like that. He was in a bit of a hurry; must've been late. He always seems to be in a hurry..." she trailed off, her eyebrows knitting together. But they came apart almost instantly. "Your father's downstairs. We're creating a new kind of ectometre; would you like to come and see?"

The perfect excuse. "Sure! Actually, I've been wanting to ask some things about the psychological aspects of ghosts while I'm here, too."

My mother grinned, leading me in through the door and into the basement laboratory. It was always the same; there were green and faintly glowing chemical spills everywhere, most of which smelling strangely of chlorine. But after a childhood of living in the house, I was quite used to it and barely noticed the familiar, almost nostalgic smell.

Dad had been busying himself with a metal facemask on, welding something with a blowtorch. He'd barely noticed our entry, too enthralled with his work. I cleared my throat loudly, which seemed to do the job.

"Jazzy-pants!" he looked up at me and grinned, removing the mask that was protecting his face. "Do you want to-"

"I've already asked, and she said yes," mum interrupted, before continuing; "In fact, she wants to find out some other things about ghosts, as well."

My dad beamed his big, goofy grin, walking over and giving me a belated pat on the back. "I always knew you'd come round! The Fenton blood's in you, after all."

"It sure is!" I laughed nervously, but tried to conceal it. How Danny kept his secret from our ghost-obsessed parents was beyond me. A lot of luck, I'm sure, to start with. "So, what's this ectometre all about?"

"It's this little baby!" Jack said, voice and expression still bright. He picked up the gadget he'd just been welding on the bench, careful not to touch the parts that were still hot from the blowtorch. "It doesn't quite work yet, though. We were just about to wire the spark-starter to the switch, when you came to visit."

"Oh." I tried to sound disappointed, even though I knew I was failing at it. "Well, what's it supposed to do when it's done?"

"We've already tested to make sure the sprockets move correctly, and once it has the fluxing spark ignition set up, everything should work quite well!" Mum smiled, looking at the result of their hard work with pride. "It'll tell us the ectoplasm density of any given ghost - it does this by measuring the oxygen/ectoplasm ratio, so it's better if you're up close. But at any rate, it's still going to be a huge step up."

Despite myself, I found that I was slightly interested. "Density?"

"Well, see, recently we found out that ghosts have different densities in ectoplasm. A ghost with a higher amount of density will be a lot more difficult to battle with compared with a ghost with a lower density, which will be less of a threat. Of course, you have to factor in that some ghosts are docile anyway, but this _will _give you a good scope on what you're up against and what level of force is necessary."

When I came to think about it, it really was quite a good idea. It could have come in useful for Danny when he got into ghost fights, as well. However, there were other things right now that I needed to know.

"I'm really sorry – because I know you're enthralled in this new invention and all, but I'll have to look at it later when it's done. For now, I'd just like to ask some questions – about ghosts."

Both of my parents looked somewhat disappointed with me disregarding their new gadget, though relatively pleased that I was asking about their speciality. I made a mental note to myself to look at the ectometre when it was done, if only for their benefit.

"So," mum began excitedly, all thoughts of the ectometre extinguished. "what is it that you'd like to know about ghosts?"

"Well, lately I was just wondering... emotionally, how does a ghost act?"

Mum looked slightly puzzled at the question, needing to collect her thoughts. She was, however, doing a lot better than dad, who looked absolutely and positively confounded.

"We think – and mind you, Jazz, this is pure speculation – that the amount of emotion displayed varies with a ghost much like it does with a human. _Although_... I could say, just from watching the ghosts' actions, that their emotions are exactly as they were when they were human; just amplified, which would explain why lots of them who had an aggressive temperament in life lash out even more aggressively as a ghost."

"Oh, okay..." this was actually telling me a lot more than I let on. Could it be that Danny was experiencing two different sets of emotions both at the same time, one normal and one amplified? It sounded like rubbish, but he was a whole different situation. It would also explain why his emotions were intense enough that I could feel them, on occasion. "So, just how strong are the emotions? Could they maybe be amplified to a point where an outsider could feel them?"

Mum laughed, rolling her lavender-coloured eyes. "_Honestly, _Jazz. Where did you get that idea?"

"I..." I needed a believable excuse, believable excuse, believable excuse... "I know a ghost, and that's what happens with him." Wrong. I knew I'd be paying for that dearly, as soon as it'd come out of my mouth. In my defence, at least, there wasn't much else I could say without spilling my brother's secret all over them in the process.

Mum boggled. Dad stared. I shrunk. With lips pursed, she asked, "What sort of connections do you have with this _ghost?_"

"Not many, really..." I could feel my face getting very red, very quickly. This was going to end badly... "We just, you know... know each other. He's not one of the violent ones – he's very nice and always well-composed. Hates fighting. We've known each other for a long time, now, and I'm pretty sure he's not trouble. I even psychoanalysed him."

Both of my parents still looked as though they greatly disapproved. Nervously, I cleared my throat.

"So, uhh... I was still wondering, could you tell me why this might happen?"

"I suggest that we meet with him and see for ourselves." Maddie suggested, her face merely _suggesting _that in her mind, she was plotting. "We can find out then, can't we Jack?"

Dad agreed, but then he added with narrowed eyes, "I still greatly disapprove of your boyfriend being a ghost, though."

Yep, I was definitely in too deep. I'd just successfully dug myself into a hole. I mean, sure – I'd gotten _some _info that might shed a _minute _amount of light on Danny... but I'd still dug myself into a hole, and I probably wasn't going to be able to squirm out of it easily.

My parents wanted to meet my non-existent ghost boyfriend – whom I'd never even so much as _suggested _was my boyfriend – and if I suddenly couldn't prove his existence, I knew questions would be asked.

That night, when I went to bed, I didn't sleep very well at all.


	3. Problems with Coffee and Agitation

**Author's Note  
**Heheh... this is so fun, updating so often! I think I'd forgotten what it was like after I got out of the habit. I'd absolutely love to be able to keep this up, if possible. –nods- Thanks so much to my reviewers and readers! :D

And just give me a heads-up; November in America, that's cold, right? In Australia, it's warm, and I'm no good at telling the seasons properly up in the Northern Hemisphere.

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**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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The sun shone cheerfully through the curtains and into my room. Somehow, I just wasn't in the mood, though. Sun though it may be, I had work today. It wasn't that I didn't like my job – it was just that I had other things occupying my mind at the moment. When you're so heavily preoccupied, it botches the analysis on patients. You have to watch their facial expressions, movements, fidgeting, what they say, eye movements – everything.

At least it wasn't a brain surgery day; I'd done those before, and they're the only part of my job I dislike. Fiddling with the main controller of someone gives a great sense of power, true, but one mistake, and it could easily be fatal. The most acute concentration is vital.

I clambered out of bed, dragging my feet along the ground on the way to the wardrobe. I was definitely a morning person, but only because I had my coffee when I got up. Nothing beat a steaming hot cup of coffee on a cold November morning.

I spent a day with the patients at Amity Park Private Psychiatric Hospital, or the A-Triple-P-H, but I knew that I'd have to see them all again. I'd taken the notes, sure; they even read coherently. But my mind hadn't been in it, most likely because it was wandering in the midst of its own depths – Danny and ghosts and waves of emotions and my parents trying to find my non-existent ghost of a boyfriend.

By the time I was home, I was grouchy and just about ready to kick something. I'd been unproductive and I was no closer to finding out anything – whether it be about my patients or my family.

There had to be a way, I thought. But at that time, I just couldn't think of anything. For one of the only times in my life, I had no idea, no plan, and no _clue _where the hell and in which direction I was supposed to be heading.

Perhaps I could talk again to Danny on the weekend? But I didn't want him to know... and, God, how would he react when mum and dad told him of my boyfriend, who was no more existent than Dash Baxter's brain, the jock who disproved my thesis that _no one_ is untutorable? So much for not letting him know I was snooping. He might be a little thick and clueless at times, but he's not so thick that he wouldn't smell something fishy going on.

I downed the night's fourth cup of coffee, sure that the caffeine wasn't doing much for my sleeping habits or my health. I knew I was becoming addicted to the stuff, but didn't really care enough to take the effort of quitting.

My head screamed that there had to be a solution to the problem. It raved at me as I agitatedly walked from one side of the living room to the other, muttering. Why should this little thing be something to drive me insane over, anyway? It was ridiculous. I _should _have been worrying about the fights that Danny got into on a regular basis, but no...

My mind twitched, and so did my eye. All the coffee, all the stress, and all the inconclusiveness didn't prove to be a good sleep inducer.

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"So... mum said that you have... a..."

"I know what she said, Danny. It's not the truth. I had to lie when I was asking her something."

"You _lied _about having a ghost boyfriend?" Danny looked incredulous, eyes almost reaching the point of glowing with disbelief. "What the hell brought that on?"

"I'm _really _sorry, Danny. I know I've dug myself into a hole, but I was asking about psychoanalysing ghosts, and they suddenly wanted to know why. It's better than telling them about your ghost half..."

"_That _is _really _messed up."

"I know..."

It was then that another wave hit me. I couldn't be sure whether it was pity, anger, or a strange mix of the two. It rolled off Danny in pulses, entering through my skin and reaching through my body. The feeling was chilling and eerie, and even now after I'd experienced it so many times, I just couldn't get used to channelling someone else's emotions. The anger was particularly odd, however, as it made my stomach bubble and my face become hot...

"Jazz... are you getting a temperature, or something?"

I shook my head, blinking my eyes in an attempt at confusion. "No. It's a bit warm in here, though. Oh – would you look at that, the fire's on four. That's it."

The fire was promptly turned down. But my face was still hot with anger that wasn't my own; how Danny wasn't going red at this level of anger was possibly one of life's great unsolvable mysteries. Of course, there was the whole half-ghost factor, which probably helped things. If anything, the increased blood flow _should_ have been making him go green...

"Jazz? Anyone home in that head of yours?" the call snapped me out of my thinking. I realised I'd trailed off on my own thought train. "There's something else I should probably ask."

"What's that?"

"Why did you ask mum and dad about ghost emotions? Case in point, ones that travel in _waves?_"

So he _was_ told. I should have known, really – how I didn't think of this outcome before surprised me a little; obviously I'd jumped into the whole situation a bit too quickly. Or would it be a good thing? Perhaps I could examine him while he was consciously aware I was doing so? Actually, so long as he didn't spit the dummy, this process would be significantly easier...

"Yeah, well... that's why I had to lie to them about knowing a ghost. I couldn't very well say that it was you, and... well, I'm wondering why it happens. If I had've realised it'd turn into a mess, I would've just kept it all under my hat."

"No, but... I'm interested. Why'd you want to know?"

"I... I might not look like I do, but I seriously worry about you," I admitted, taking a sip of the night's second coffee. "It's so strange, and I'm fairly sure only I can feel them, so... well, don't you want to know what they're all about, too? It's so mysterious, and I've never heard of any other ghost having this happen."

Danny opened his mouth and then closed it again, beginning to fiddle with the spoon in his helping of the caffeine-rich drink. He appeared to be mulling things over.

"...So... any theories?"

Perfect. He was accepting it – my main worry was that he'd reject the whole thing and get angry like last week, which obviously, wasn't a good situation to be in. I began to think, steadily conjugating what I had in mind.

"I think that... your ghost half might be feeling different emotions than you. Like – I dunno, a divided consciousness. That'd be why you have no idea what emotion they are or even that they're happening at all."

"But that's crazy! You know that it's – it's me, that's all there is to it. Phantom's not a whole other person. It's just me with white hair and green eyes!"

I put my hands up defensively. "Hey, it's just a theory!"

"Point..."

The talk for the night didn't get much further than this. Truth be told, I couldn't actually think of what else I could test for, so we sat there for the rest of the time with coffee mugs in our hands, watching the television. I figured that this one would be a waiting game, as much as it pained me to realise this. I wanted answers, _now_, and I'm sure that Danny did too.

At the end of the visit, however, something rather interesting happened. It was a development that was both new and extreme. When Danny walked out the door, I patted him on the back just as a 'keep safe' sort-of gesture. But something happened – I froze in position, feeling wave upon wave of relentless anger course through me from the point where my hand had touched him. Like hot red pulses, it travelled through every cell to the nucleus, penetrating every single little _atom_. The organs in my stomach wobbled, my throat became all choked up, and the blood vessels in my head and eyes felt like they were about to burst completely...

This wasn't just rage. This was something else at work entirely.

Danny was screaming at me in the background, but the only thing I could make out was him yelling that my eyes were going red. From there, I can't remember anything; I only know what was in Danny's own recount of the story.

I convulsed, snapping my eyes shut, and then fell to the ground with a silencing thud.


	4. We All Have to Make Sacrifices

**Author's Note  
**Yeah, this was a long time in coming. I battled through three writer's blocks, a rewrite, two colds and a few waves of stomach cramps while writing this. So, uh, please forgive me for the lateness? I really didn't mean it.

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**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-  


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When I dazedly reopened my eyes in an impossibly sterile hospital room, it was already the next morning. Or, at least – I had_ hoped _it was the next morning. The clock, with bright red lettering, was there, but the date sure wasn't.

Slowly, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The room was just so _white!_ But then again, hospital rooms always were, so really I shouldn't have made any fuss over it. What was so bad about white? Nothing bad about white. It was just a colour. I mean shade.

I knew my thoughts were looping; they were all rather scrambled at the moment. I eventually put that down to my doziness. But the thing was, I wasn't dozy at all. I was fit and well enough to almost literally jump out of bed and drain a cup of coffee, even though it probably wouldn't have been very wise.

For a few moments, I sat there, unable to collect myself, or even figure out how I'd gotten myself into hospital in the first place. I tried to mentally trace back what had happened, but it unfortunately wasn't working. All I had was some vague memory of Danny's shocked face... but a knock on the door snapped me out of any recollecting I was managing.

"Miss Fenton, it's only the nurse... you awake, yet? May I come in?"

"...Yeah... yes please!"

She was dressed all in white, and wore a soft, comforting smile on her face. Somehow, this didn't really put me at any ease – even with the easy-going London accent. I looked at her curiously as she began to fix my bed and open the curtains.

"You had a big day yesterday." she began, conversationally. "Your brother called the ambulance, apparently, and the ambos found you out cold on the floor. Couldn't find any reason for it, of course..."

I was still having trouble recalling the memory, even though all the information I needed had just been explained plain and simple to me. I made a move to get up, but the nurse hurried over and pushed me back down.

"Now, miss... you need your rest. We don't want you gettin' up until you're feeling absolutely fine."

"I do feel fine, though." I insisted. "I want to talk to my brother..."

"You sure? No, stay in bed. I'll get the cook to make you somethin' nice for brekkie, 'kay?"

Before I could protest anymore against my decisions being made for me, the cockney-accented nurse bustled out of the room. My head buzzed as I sunk back into the bed sheets, having partially given up on doing anything for the time being. At least I'd only been in for the night, according to the nurse, so it wasn't like I'd been vegetating in a year-long coma or anything. But Danny was one person I really needed at the moment – by the sounds of things, he'd seen exactly what had happened and would be able to recount it for me properly, in place of my currently defective brain.

* * *

Breakfast had been surprisingly good for hospital food – I hadn't ever realised that they made pancakes. It must have been a very good hospital, at any rate. Unfortunately, something to eat wasn't any more helpful in reclaiming the missing parts of my memory than lying in bed for two long, boring hours. Which is why I nearly jumped out and flung the sheets off when I saw the familiar head of black hair coming through the door.

"Calm down!" he complained, visibly agitated. I shrunk back into bed, watching him with a brow cocked. He sighed dejectedly, before sitting down on a plastic chair and lowering his voice to a whisper. "Sorry. More ghost troubles... Dad broke the genetic lock to the portal at about five in the morning... and I'm sure there's still a few out there that I've missed..."

"Oh... sorry. It's just, I can't really remember why I'm in here and you apparently called the ambulance..."

Danny looked uncomfortable, shifting his position nervously. "Do you remember talking to me last night?"

"I remember... erm... watching television with you."

"You were talking about... emotions, or something? You were saying that mine were hitting you in waves, for some reason..."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped before I could, taking back what I was going to say and putting some thought into it. Danny leaned in closer, though didn't push me to answer any faster.

"That's right... and then I... touched you on the back! On the way out of the doorway! And then – I don't remember. It's like my brain lost capacity to hold memories, or something..."

"Maybe that's best..." he seemed to be having trouble holding eye contact. I had the feeling something nasty had happened last night, and this certainly wasn't indicating otherwise. "Maybe it's best that we just forget... you know, maybe nothing will happen again."

"Danny, it's my body. I have a right to know what happened to me."

He swallowed. "Your eyes were glowing red. I haven't ever seen something like that – not even in some of the ghosts. It wasn't just... it was like all of the turquoise pigment in your eyes disappeared, leaving all the blood vessels exposed. Like you'd suddenly gone albino. But it _glowed_, too. Ghosts look different... Jazz, I was _scared_."

I didn't really know what to say, but the memories were starting to return – with startling clarity, too. The boiling hot mix of anger and hatred... and then...

"After that, you just - you fell." His voice was becoming strained – I'd never really heard it like that, to be perfectly honest. It was always confident, but now... "And I panicked. You looked like you were having a seizure, so I put a cushion under your head and tried to hold you down while the ambulance was coming..."

My body was ridged. I almost couldn't believe that I hadn't remembered the anger already; it was far too vivid a memory to just not have been there. I stared at Danny, though not really looking at him at the same time...

"I... was hoping to bury this under everything and forget it ever happened..." my brother continued, now looking down at his feet. "But now that I've said that, I'm not sure I can; what do we do if this happens again? I need to know what's causing this."

I knew one thing we could do, but I rejected the thought sourly. Danny would never have agreed to go through with it. Or so I thought, anyway. Mentally, I groaned on how hard it was going to be to make it all work out. Even if Danny agreed, my parents were ghost _hunters_. How well they'd take finding out their son had a potentially dangerous ghost half, and had been in the possession of it for almost the last sixteen years, was anyone's guess.

Nervously, I began to ask...


	5. Even if the Sacrifice is Dangerous

**Author's Note  
**Yeah, trying to get the update stream up again. I really want to have this finished, and after this, some other fics, too. My record for finishing fics is incredibly bad, so now I'm really trying to clean up my act. ;)

Thanks kindly for the reviews! I haven't gotten around to replying to them yet, because I'm on a holiday at my dad's place at the moment and therefore have limited Internet access, but I'll get them done, Thursday night when I get home – promise!

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**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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I could feel myself sinking back into my squashy armchair, away from the person who stood in front of me. Particularly because that person was standing, arms crossed, with a very unhappy (and somewhat worried) look across his face. It was the kind of expression that exerted such a force that it almost magnetically repulsed you.

"You _think_, Jazz,_ for a second_, that telling our parents would actually work?"

"They have a truce with Phantom. It's worth a shot, anyway; you admitted yourself that we can't let this go unchecked."

Danny looked away from me rather sourly, muttering something about rathering to be made Vlad's apprentice over telling his parents any minute detail of the accident or otherwise. I could understand his reluctance, but the situation wasn't worth leaving – especially after the last incident.

"Fine... if you don't want to tell them, then... that's not my decision. But you should at least figure out someone who you can ask."

"But who? Vlad's out of the question, and... I'm not sure Tucker and Sam are the right people for this sort of problem. My only option would be to go into the Ghost Zone – risking my _neck _in the process – and search out someone there who might know about this, which isn't happening."

"I know it's not a decision I can make for you. But _please,_ Danny, _please _try to get some information on this. If not for yourself, then for your sister, who loves you and cares about what happens to you."

Danny sighed; it was amazing how a mere combination of sounds could change someone's mind. Though I didn't know if it really had changed his mind or not; he continued on to say, "I'll think about it." before drinking the rest of his cocoa in one great mouthful. I sipped my own coffee, looking hopefully at him. It didn't really seem to change his mind. Obviously his maturity hadn't spread to _all_ the areas of his brain...

"I appreciate that you're trying to help and that this _has_ affected you, too... but, I'll go home, have a good night's sleep for about the first time in about a decade, and I'll tell you what _I _think would be the best course of action tomorrow morning."

"Well, Danny... please, whatever you decide to do... I'm sure I can trust you to not just 'leave it'."

"Yeah..." Danny mumbled back. I knew he wished that there was some way to get the information without it having massive drawbacks, and that he _was _going to attempt to think of a way that avoided such drawbacks, but he was so uncertain at the moment that it could take him ages to decide.

I watched him out the door later that night, still uncertain about what he was going to do. We'd agreed, however, that until the problem had been sorted out that it was best that we didn't make physical contact with one another. At least, I thought, that if nothing else, we were going to learn to manage it.

Even though I'd managed to drown a record-breaking five cups of coffee in the last two hours, the magnitude of the problem was finally starting to weigh me down – or perhaps it was the exhaustion catching up with me from fitting last night. My joints sure were starting to ache, and my eyelids were drooping as I closed the door.

There was one unorthodox, idiotic, and possibly lethal way to deal with this, however. It threw common sense and personal safety out the window and all the way to the horizon, but it could have offered a solution.

At least, in my tired mind, it seemed like a good idea.

* * *

The next day, in my well-rested mind, while I was standing right in front of the great green swirl itself , it didn't seem such a good idea at all. It was a time like now that I remembered that:

1. There was currently, as Danny had said, a mounting rebellion (both in protest and violence) taking place against Walker.  
2. I had never, in my entire _life_, actually been inside the place, which meant I'd have no sense of direction whatsoever.  
3. The place was rather lacking in standing ground, which meant problems if you _needed _ground to stand on.  
4. Up was as good as down, which would further screw up any sense of direction I _would _have in there.  
5. I wasn't a ghost, so therefore had no means of protecting myself.  
6. The Spectre Speeder, and its blueprints, had been completely destroyed a few months ago, after Dad caused a miniature explosion which took out at least half the lab and barely missed him.  
7. I was entering without telling anyone, which meant any rescuing was out of the question.

"I must be off my nut, trying this..." I sighed to myself, touching the edge of the swirl with my fingers. It felt a little like liquid, and was _very _cold. I pulled my hands into the sleeves of my jacket. "But it's for Danny. And if God wants to kill me for trying to help my little brother, then so be it..."

Unsure of myself, I glided my hand once again over the swirls. It chilled the flesh. I pulled back instantly. Then, with a gulp, I held firmly onto the metal exterior of the portal and plunged my head in to have a look.

Whoever said the dimension looked distorted and strange must have been blind. It was an obvious understatement in every sense of the word; it was more like space, only it was green enough to make you sick of the colour for a very long time, and it looked like someone's imagination had been sucked dry just to make the place. And there was air. Air was always good.

I couldn't decide whether it was my demise or a just a plain stroke of good luck, but there was some ground just where the portal came out. Though, understandably, I was reluctant to put any weight on it – for all I knew, it could have crumbled away under my unsteady feet. Carefully, I put a leg in, feeling the chill reach through it. And then I tested the rock. It was sturdy, at least.

Still holding onto the rim, I put my other leg through and stood on the rock, ready to pull myself back through the portal if I needed to. But it held surprisingly well for a rock that was supported by nothing. So, eventually, after great mental anguish, I let go and then closed my eyes as if I expected myself to fall. It must have looked rather comical to anyone – or rather, anything – that was watching on.

And, in fact, it _did _look rather comical to someone watching on. Of course, I didn't know that I was being observed at that moment, which meant I was free to blunder about, desperately trying to get my bearings. But not for long...


	6. The Not Quite Orthodox Plan

**Author's Note  
**I'm so sorry it took so long to update this. School came in, a number of other factors played, and I got... distracted. Majorly distracted.

So, as a BIG thank-you for being patient with me... you have my, er, thanks? And of course, a chapter. –showers her readers with words-

**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

When I got right down to it, it was a real surprise that I'd never done anything of this kind before. With my brother permanently affected from the accident, and the portal just sitting here in the lab ever since, why I hadn't ever been forced into this place until now – whether it be by Danny's hand or someone else's – was nothing short of a miracle.

Or perhaps the correct terminology in this case would be burden, because my unfamiliarity with my surroundings was more than just disabling.

I stood on the rock unsteadily, trying to take in everything that was around me. There wasn't, contrary to what I'd been hoping, any kind of ground other than the giant stone , so walking _anywhere _was going to be impossible. All I could really do was stay rooted to the spot, analysing.

The air was thick, and held the smell and taste of chlorine, like taking my parent's lab and multiplying the stench tenfold. There was air, alright, but your lungs really had to squeeze the oxygen out of all the other impurities, considering that it certainly didn't _taste _like it was very good for you.

How I was going to get around, on the other hand, was another problem entirely. I could always jump and hope to the lord that I didn't fall like a brick, but I didn't trust my chances. I was... stuck, unless I made a potentially lethal leap. Who knew _where _the ground was – or even if there _was_ any at all. If I'd decided to take my chances, I could have ended up in a kind of endless freefall – or ended up hitting the ground hard enough to, at the very _least, _kill myself.

Not a very good scenario, at any rate.

For that period of time, whilst I was doing nothing more than standing around and waiting for some sort of idea to come and dawn on me, another being took its chance. Now don't get me wrong – if I'd have seen it, I would've dived back through the portal faster than I could've screamed. But it was invisible to my sight, which really wasn't that uncommon for a ghost.

On the other hand, I did kick and struggle when I felt two hands grasp both of my arms, just above my elbows. I couldn't see anything of what was happening except for the fact that my feet were dangling further and further away from the only safe ground I could see for miles, and the only thing that was holding me there was an invisible – and possibly sinister – force.

Finally, I yelled at 'it' to let me down. It made no indication of being heard, except for the loosening of grip. At that, I responded by clasping what felt a sleeve, and clawing my way up.

The ghost finally revealed itself, with what would have been a frown – had it actually had a face other than a pair of shades. "You're no fun." It (he?) pouted.

"_Excuse _me?"

"You're no fun." the ghost repeated, in a very clear, mocking voice. "You kick and struggle and yell, but there's no... I'm not sure. But you're missing something."

"Is this a joke?!" I was dumbstruck, almost. I actually had a few questions for the ghost, but I wasn't going to let it just _leave _me up here. "For God's sake, put me down! It's not as if I can fly like _you _can!"

"See, _that's _why you're no fun. There's too much authority in your voice; that is to say, you're too _bossy_."

"Put. Me. Down!"

The faceless equivalent of an eye roll was apparent. Obviously it thought my fears to be trivial at worst, but didn't particularly seem like it was one of those ghosts that would take your head off, either. Needless to say, I was more than glad when my feet were on solid ground again. It still didn't stop me from glaring at him for the short fiasco, however.

"What the _hell _was _that _for?"

"You're a human, correct? A human in the middle of the Ghost Zone – a place which should be entirely different from what you know. And yet, even though I've released my hold on you, you don't seem to be running back through that portal." he paused to bring a finger up to where his mouth should have been. "Fascinating."

"Don't give me a psychology lesson – I already know all of that!" I spat angrily. "Tell me who you are and what all this was about before I go back through that portal, unlock the weapons vault, and _make _you tell me!"

"...By which time, I would have disappeared into the depths of the green swirls, unreachable by your limited knowledge of how the physics of this place work."

At this point, I decided that the ghost in front of me was definitely one of the least threatening around, although I didn't want to leave it to chance. I always kept him within my eyeshot, not even deviating for a second. Although I had a feeling that if he was going to do something to me, he would have taken me away somewhere rather than putting me back on the ground and revealing what little there seemed to be of his identity.

However, straight answers didn't seem to be high on his agenda. I suppose it fitted the odd detective get-up, shades and facelessness. How he was actually talking without a mouth was anyone's guess.

And yet, after a few more seconds, he continued on to ask, "Why is it that you're here?"

"You're going to _help_ me?"

"Of course not. But I do have a thing called curiosity, woman. Humans don't just _waltz_ in here so knowingly, or with such a 'man on a mission' look covering their faces."

"Fine. I'll tell you what I'm here for. But before that, you have to tell me who you are!"

The ghost seemed to consider this for a moment, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Eventually, he held out his hand in a handshake gesture. "I'm Amorpho, shape shifter. And you are?"

I ignored the silliness (and obviousness) of Amorpho's name quite easily, probably as a result of the current situation. And while reluctant to shake hands with any ghost other than, obviously, Danny, I shook his and stated my name back. I could have been getting myself into something rather dangerous – something I was fully aware of – but knew that if I played my cards right, then I might have been able to get the ghost to spill some information on what the whole emotion dilemma was. Or if not – be able to direct me to someone who _could _inform me.

"I believe you owe me an explanation now, do you not?" Amorpho said, retracting his hand. I nodded wearily.

"I came here because my brother's – or possibly someone else's – emotions are hitting me in waves, and there was a recent incident where when I touched him, it caused... much unpleasantness."

"Your brother... he is the half ghost, Danny Phantom, correct? _That's _where I knew your face from. I'd been wondering from where I'd recognized you. I suppose you're talking about the same brother, yes?"

I nodded again, although this time a little more willingly. "I came here to see if I could find something... one to help us. But our previous conversation would indicate plainly that you don't particularly want to help me at all."

"For Phantom, I may have to retract that earlier statement. You know, I am a trained detective, and even without the practical jokes, finally exercising some skills that I've acquired – admittedly some time ago – might be a positive thing for the both of us. I could watch over your brother if you'd like, and attempt to look deeper into what's going on for you. What do you think?"

I regarded him sceptically. "My brother happens to have a ghost sense. I don't think you'll be able to spy. I only came here for information. Plus, how do I know that you're not going to attack either one of us?"

"A good detective always knows ways to conceal himself, even against the odds. You can also take some solace in the fact that your brother could kill me several times over, if I decided to get on his bad side. The cards are on the table. Going to chance a little dance with me?"

I looked beyond the ghost, taking eye-contact from him for the first time since I'd been lifted from solid ground – something that I was now unbelievably fond of. The green swirls made your eyes blur and unfocus, I noticed, while I wasn't actually thinking about the offer at hand.

"And this spying business – it will _only _be with the intention of helping my brother?"

"Of course."

At that, we shook hands again in a very businesslike fashion, before heading back through the portal to the real world. Honestly, I was just glad to be out of that dimension. It was strange and creepy and put our dimension's physics to shame. I couldn't believe that I'd just made a deal with some unknown ghost, really, but there was a nagging gut feeling that it was the right thing to do – and for that reason, I didn't question him.

Besides, this Amorpho somehow managed to look sincere. Even if it was a bit hard to tell when he lacked a face to go with his head.


	7. Off the Plot

**Author's Note:  
**I'm SO sorry, I can't remember whether I actually replied to the reviews... ugh, I _am really _sorry for that. I hope to be better with the replies in future. I'm so glad for all of your reviews, though, and appreciate _every single one of them_. I really do. –hearts you guys-

Hopefully the characterization will be better this chapter. I've never written Amorpho before, and so therefore found his character difficult to write correctly. But I'm still just learning, after all, so let's see how I go this time around. :) I'll keep trying, and even if I don't get it quite right here, I'll keep trying to learn. Any and all critique appreciated with a tackle-glomp! And virtual chocolate. :P

* * *

**Psyched Out  
-MoonlightUmbreon-

* * *

**

It was already the next morning by the time I'd started to doubt my decision of letting the ghost in on this. He seemed sincere enough, of course, but what if he reported back to some other ghosts? I lay in my bed, mulling the idea back and forth in my head, beginning to get increasingly worried. Still hadn't had my coffee yet, which was irritating me to no extent. Although I hated to admit it, coffee was one of the reasons I got up of a morning.

I still refused to call it an addiction, however. Even though I was up and out of bed no less than five minutes later, tiredly pouring myself a cup. It was Monday morning, and for once, I didn't have work. I'd personally phoned my patients to move their appointments to another day other than today or tomorrow, because the plan I had in mind would require the next two days off. Or, at least one day off; I put down two, just in case.

Amorpho and I had discussed what we were going to do, and it all seemed fair and decent when we were talking. As far as I could tell, there weren't loopholes, and he was, for the most part, rather well-mannered for a ghost.

But that didn't stop the worries coming back after he'd left. I went to bed; nervously. I'd slept; fitfully. And I'd awoken; slightly sick. Why the hell had I been so trusting of him? Had it been because he'd let me go when most other ghosts wouldn't? Whatever the reason, the potential damage had been done.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my contemplations. Embarrassed, I noticed that I was still wrapped up in my dressing gown – which, whilst very warm and comfortable, was hardly the dress to be answering the door in. Still, I opened it up, trying to keep the mad blush that was covering my face to a minimum.

And to whom did I open the door to? _Myself_. Standing there, right in front of me, was... it was _me_, wearing exactly what I'd been wearing yesterday. Before I could stop myself, I slammed the door shut, breathing in and out unsteadily. How the heck could that, I, that, her, what?!

It was impossible. There was _no way _that I could have been standing out there – I was here, wasn't I? Perhaps all this craziness had gotten to my head. Perhaps I was hallucinating. But it _looked _real... still, so did many hallucinations. So, suppose this was one. Did anything else look out of place? Not as far as I could tell. Everything was in order... except for what stood behind my front door.

Before I had any more time to trip over my own thoughts, the other me stepped _through _the _wall_. I stared at her, unsure as to whether scooping my eyes out might stop the hallucination altogether. The other me smiled placidly and waved, scanning my face with turquoise-coloured eyes.

"Who _are _you?"

"Don't sound so incredulous, Jasmine." she mocked, a slight chuckle apparent. "I thought you were a psychiatrist!"

"What do you _mean _by that? How can you be – be _me?!_"

"Perhaps you should have listened to my wording a little better, when we first met." She grinned, before changing into – Amorpho. "I _did _say I was a shape shifter."

I felt like slapping myself. Somehow, the ghost managed to grin broadly even without a mouth, and had obviously gotten a fair bit of enjoyment from scaring me half to death. I glared, but this only seemed to make him even more satisfied.

"Well, we _are _on better terms. I figured that just a little fright couldn't hurt."

"What's that? Oh, just tell me after I've recovered from the bi-pass, will you?"

Amorpho seemed far too delighted to reply. And now I remembered that I was standing in front of him in a powdery blue dressing gown and slippers. It made me feel _humiliated_. This was probably his aim, especially since I hadn't expected him back so early.

"So, we're putting this plan into action today, yes?" I'm sure I sounded a little harsh, but who could blame me? "And we're not going to have any of... what you just displayed _then _interrupt _any _of it, right?"

"I _suppose _so," Amorpho sulkily replied. However, he brightened up when he continued, "It _is_ in the name of detective work."

That was as good as a "Yes, definitely!", I figured, and so decided to go with it. Today the plan would be put into place, and perhaps... just _perhaps_, we'd figure out what on _Earth_ was going on with Danny.

I wanted – perhaps even _needed _– to find out. It was for Danny's sake, and perhaps even mine.

And, not to mention, I was beginning to feel rather sure that Danny wasn't going to tell me _anything_ in great detail on his own.

* * *

It was not a dark and stormy night.

For one, it was the middle of the day and the sun was shining in a sunburn-threatening manner. At least it was a cheery mood. Not that there was anything cheery about going to put a plot which defied truthfulness and involved a _ghost_ into action. Amorpho had still failed to specify _how _he was going to avoid Danny's ghost sense, which was rather worrying. He may have been a detective, yes, but the only kind of ghost that got past Danny's notice was a half-ghost.

Amorpho approached the door, and then pulled up his index finger and tapped it where his mouth should have been, apparently wondering about our next move.

"How often for each ghost does your brother's ghost sense go off?"

I had to think about it for a moment, as it wasn't something that we'd ever actually discussed. It can't have gone off every five minutes for the same ghost, and I knew it – I would've seen it while he was fighting. I was willing to bet two hours, at least, since I'd seen one of his longer battles before...

Amorpho crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on them impatiently.

"Erm, I think it's something like two hours." I quickly began. "I don't know. It could be until the ghost goes away – but I've never seen it go off for the same ghost more than once during one... interaction."

The detective ghost nodded and readjusted his shades. He seemed to be thinking some more, head leaning to one side...

This was making me suspicious that he wasn't going to stick to the plan. At all. I really should have expected as much, especially when, unexpectedly, his hand closed in a tight grip around my wrist and yanked me, in a _very _swift motion, flew up from the street and phased through the wall to my brother's bedroom.

It made me feel _ill_. And the inertia didn't help, because unlike ghosts, I had _no _control over midair movement, and was thrown forwards when Amorpho abruptly stopped. My arm cracked as a result in the most excruciating manner, before I was slowly reeled back. I was fairly sure it wasn't broken, but it had certainly _hurt_.

I turned back to glare at Amorpho, but quickly found that he'd vanished. And _I'd _vanished, too –suddenly, I knew why he was a detective. He was quick, stealthy, logical (for the most part), and was very good at going about his business without being seen. Biting my tongue so I didn't snap at him, I turned to look at the occupant of Danny's room, which was, almost inevitably, Danny.

Suddenly, he shivered, spine stiffening as a breath of icy blue mist poured from his mouth. Amorpho pulled back, sharply, as the two of us were uncomfortably close to him.

"Where are you... c'mon... come out... I _promise _I won't _bite_..."

I began to feel a strong emotional wave, even at a fair distance away. But I didn't need the waves to figure out my brother, at the moment. The statement, with the underlying tone of near-_cruelty_, was more than enough to portray his mood.

There had _definitely _been something that he hadn't been telling me...


End file.
